


patience

by bjsognin



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Dreams, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjsognin/pseuds/bjsognin
Summary: https://youtu.be/s7kS-gN6z5E





	patience

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've posted on ao3. I'm posting it from my phone, and I have no idea how to format right and italicize things. Bear with me. I hope you enjoy!!

Oliver knew this was a dream. It was too good to be true. He had awoken, in B, or New York. He had no idea. Bright sunlight poured into the bedroom from big open windows on the right side of the king sized bed that he had woken in, bright white covers draped over his body, fanned from hours in the sun with Elio.  _ Elio _ . Just the thought made his heart jump and his mind race. Is that who has been playing the piano? The realization finally found him in his state––that faint piano could be heard from another room. Oliver pulled off the covers and laid his feet on the polished floor. It had a pleasant chill. He got up and walked through the open doorway, which had been letting even more light into the bedroom. As he walked, Oliver felt like he was floating. He felt separate from his body. When he made it to the next room, what he saw floored him. There he was. Sitting there at the seat of a piano, hunched over the keys like they were his lifeline. His nimble fingers playing a song that made Oliver feel like he was choking. He looked exactly the same as he did that summer. He was wearing Billowy, one sleeve on and the other hanging low, showing his frail shoulder. Or he was naked. Oliver didn't know. He could process what he was seeing. But he didn't care. Not when Elio was sitting right in front of him. Not when he hasn't seen this boy—this  _ man _ —in years. Nothing mattered in that moment but the space between them. "Elio," Oliver whispered. It was hard. Just too hard. The piano music stopped.  Elio stiffened. His shoulders started to shake. Slowly, he turned around. He was crying. He'd been crying.  _ He's still crying _ . Tears fell. "Oliver," Elio said, barely audible, choked out. " _ I miss you _ ."    
  
Oliver woke up crying.


End file.
